Still
by TwoSexySombreros
Summary: It should never have happened. The time for revenge has come.


**Genre: **Horror, Tragedy  
**Series**: Amnesia: The Dark Descent  
**Rating: **M  
**Word Count: **829  
**Length: **One-Shot  
**Warnings**: Violence

* * *

_My name is..._

_is..._

_I am Daniel._

His head burned and his fingers trembled, but he continued to push himself onwards. He skimmed one calloused hand against the grimy stone walls, clutching his lantern in the other. The handle squeaked with each fine tremor of his arm, and he'd noted previously that his oil had begun to run out.

He could no longer feel his fingers and when a viciously sharp pain attacked his skull, he paid no mind as his lantern crashed to the floor and shattered, plunging him into the ever-present darkness. It seemed to be everywhere he went, hunting him, stalking him, _haunting him. _However, this is the one time his hated darkness had ever offered him any form of respite, even as short as it lasted.

He forced himself to climb the flight of stairs, only moving his hands to keep himself from hitting the ground as he fell. He wished he could stay there; he knew he could, but he did not wish to. Not until he knew.

And so he continued on, one hand grasping tightly at the ends of his hair as if to allieviate the pain from his skull. It did not help. He used his free hand to lean against the wall heavily as he moved, not feeling anything as the stone cut into his palm and blood began to drip freely upon the floor.

He almost tripped as he pushed open closed doors, pushing through them as quickly and as quietly as his state would allow. Doors on his left side were now slightly ajar, the occasional gust of stale air that passed through the empty halls having opened them. Though, perhaps that was not the reason. It was much more likely that one of _them _was roaming. He did not find it in himself to care. It was no matter.

He avoided connecting his gaze with either of the two suits of armor placed standing in the large corridor, stumbling to yet another hall on his left. His knees knocked together and his vision blurred. He gasped in pain as his foot caught on the end of a dusty, old rug and his body gave out. He fell to the floor, his head feeling as if it were being punctured with a knife from the kitchen. He felt the blood begin to trickle this time.

He held his gaze at the further end of the passage, only to see chunks of rubble and more darkness. He could not move. He knew there was no escape. That, of which, was the moment he truly lost hope. He allowed himself to bleed out as he lay upon the cold stone of the floor; let all of his body and mind begin to relax.

He had come to terms with what he had done; what he had been coerced to do to prolong his own life. He was not a believer of god, no, but he found himself still praying for those who had been his victims to understand. He had not wanted to kill. The Shadow did terrible things; twisted him, contorted him, turned him into a mixture of images from his past. That was not who he was.

His temples throbbed as if he had been bludgeoned and beaten, quite severely; as if he were back in the past...

_Mother dying._

_Hazel, sick. _

_Father, kicking him in the stomach. _

_Henry, punching him at school._

_Defending himself..._

_His father, once more, beating him and locking him away._

_Running, running, running._

_The Shadow._

_Alexander._

His face burned with a shame he shouldn't feel, and was soon blanketed in a shower of his own tears. They poured continuously from his eyes, though he made no sound. His heart pounded with fear, and his vision began to blacken.

_Let the darkness come._

He heard the familiar dragging of chains from one of _them_ and he smiled, tears still running down his face. Perhaps_ it _would act on Alexander's orders and kill him before the shadow arrived. Perhaps he would join _their_ ranks. The pain was reaching the threshold, and he knew he could not stand much more. His memories were slowly deserting him. What had he done? He shouldn't have done it. He should have left it alone! He shouldn't have existed in the first place!

He stilled on the floor, fighting the urge to writhe and scream. He settled for lying there, letting the pain override conscious thought. He listened to the sounds of muffled, distorted screaming, the petrified sobbing, the clinking of chains. _They _were all toys in Alexander's foolish games, just as he was. _They _were much like him. _They _understood, even if _they_ could not show it.

When he awoke, he was still bleeding.

_They_ had welcomed him.

It was time for his revenge.


End file.
